A Rainy Day in New York City
by Janie Canuck
Summary: A young vet student's number came up and Reese is on her trail while he and Finch try to figure out what she's involved in. The surveillance goes sideways when the operative is spotted and he suddenly becomes a target.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or any of the characters. Just taking them out for a spin …

A Rainy Day in New York City

John Reese shivered slightly as he walked through the trees on the south side of Central Park, wishing he had listened to Harold's motherly admonishment to wear his trench coat this morning. It was a blustery fall day; the colour of the leaves on the hardwoods was beginning to turn, promising a spectacular display in the days to come. The colours did little to impress the ex CIA operative however. He was focused on the young woman walking on the trail just beyond the edge of the copse of trees in which he now stood concealed from sight.

She stopped and fiddled with her cell phone. He looked down at his own device, ready to pair it with the woman's, then flinched suddenly, almost yelping in surprise when his face was unexpectedly and violently lashed by one of the tree branches careening to and fro in the gusty wind. Instinctively he dropped the phone, and in an instant had drawn his pistol from its holster in the middle of his back. Hyper vigilant, his eyes searched for the source of the threat. All quiet…attacked by a tree. Good job agent. Reese put the gun back in its holster, cursing silently to himself. He reached down to pick up his fallen phone and knocked a big hunk of mud off the screen. Glancing up, he saw that the woman had put her own phone back in her knapsack and was continuing her walk towards the park exit. Damn he thought, missed the chance. He sighed and reached up to wipe a thin trickle of blood from his cheek, compliments of the whipping the tree had given his face. How was it that even in doing a seemingly non-dangerous task like following their latest number on a walk through Central Park, he managed to get yet another visible facial abrasion that Harold was going to fret over?

True to form, his employer's voice suddenly chirped in the operative's ear, sounding impatient. "Mr. Reese, I'm STILL waiting for the link with Miss Robinson's mobile device. You have been following her for over two hours. The cameras tell me she FINALLY used her phone and yet, still I have no link. You missed the only opportunity we've had so far. Are you still awake out there?"

Reese grimaced as another cold gust of wind swirled around him and slid its icy fingers down his open shirt collar. A light drizzle was starting to fall. "Still awake Harold," he growled. "I dropped the damn phone at just the wrong moment. Don't worry; I'll pair it next time."

"I advised you to wear a decent coat Mr. Reese". The 'I-told-you-so' tone in Harold's voice was grating. "If you hadn't been so stubborn I'm sure your hands would not be numb and you wouldn't be so clumsy."

Reese scowled and bit back the rude retort that jumped to the tip of his tongue. His scowl deepened as he watched the object of his surveillance walk past the park exit, stop to pull a sensible raincoat from her knapsack, don the jacket and start a second loop around the trail. The light drizzle turned into a steady rain. Just great.

Harold Finch allowed himself a slight smirk as he eyed the camera feed showing his hapless employee emerging from the copse of trees and continuing to discreetly follow the target. He could almost see Reese trembling under the onslaught of the wind and rain and found it amusing to note that the tall man, usually so graceful and composed, was looking remarkably pathetic. Like a puppy abandoned in the rain, he thought absently.

Finch made a mental note to pick up some Echinacea, chamomile tea and honey on his next excursion out of the library; can't have his asset getting sick. He found himself enjoying the anticipation of forcing the operative to take the cold remedies when he got back from the surveillance. He knew Reese would claim invincibility and fight to avoid it, but in the end, he would pout like a little boy and take his medicine. Finch wasn't sure why, but he felt oddly parental where Mr. Reese was concerned and found a large degree of comfort in doing what he could to take care of the younger man.

His fingers danced across the keyboard. "Miss Susan Robinson…" Finch stated needlessly. He had already briefed his employee on the basics but he found it helped his thought process to talk while he searched for more information on their latest number. "…24 years old and a student at Cornell University's College of Veterinary Medicine in Ithaca, New York."

"I know all that Harold" was Reese's aggravated reply. "My question is what's she doing in New York City, four hours from Ithaca, wandering around Central Park in the rain…" Finch thought he could hear the younger man's teeth chattering. "…in the rain for TWO hours and counting?"

"That's your job to determine, Mr. Reese…" Harold said sternly. "If you had listened to me this morning when I tried to tell you it was going to rain…"

"Enough Harold," came Reese's curt reply. "OK, you were right. It's cold. It's raining. I should have worn my coat….happy now?" Finch smiled in spite of himself.

"So tell me Harold", Reese continued. "Have you found ANYTHING that might tell us why the machine gave us this woman's number?" The wind howled and Reese groaned inwardly as the rain got even heavier. It was coming at him sideways now and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

"Nothing so far…" Finch answered. "Miss Robinson is single, living in a small apartment close to her campus…no boyfriend as far as I can see but without access to her phone, which we would have if you weren't so juvenile in refusing my advice this morning, it's hard to tell." Reese closed his eyes and willed himself not to respond to Harold's scolding .

Finch continued his monologue as he scanned the screen before him. "No money problems. She's got a student loan but nothing outlandish. She has achieved excellent academic results and all the comments from her university professors indicate that she is an outstanding student." His eyes darted to another screen. "Miss Robinson has been working on a research project for one of the tenured professors as part of her training…" Reese could hear the sound of Harold's fingers flying across the keyboard…or was it his own teeth chattering? He couldn't be sure. "The research is being led by a Dr. Daniel Fenson. Seems to have something to do with developing some kind of new drug to treat cancer in dogs", Harold went on. "Did you know Mr. Reese, that it is estimated that almost fifty percent of dogs over the age of ten will get cancer and approximately one in four of all dogs will develop cancer at some stage in their lives?"

"Fascinating," came Reese's unenthusiastic reply. He tried to look unobtrusive as he crossed an open grassy area while the woman continued her tour around the park. The grass was soaked and he could soon feel water sloshing around inside his shoes. Could this get any worse? The young woman stopped abruptly and Reese hurriedly pushed his way inside a large shrub to get out of sight before she looked in his direction. Not that there weren't other people in the park, but he definitely looked out of place, dressed as he was in a dark suit with no overcoat and soaked to the bone. She pulled her phone out of the knapsack. Oh thank God, he thought. He didn't miss it this time, finally managing to pair the young woman's phone with his own. She had just received a text message, the contents of which were odd, to say the least. "Are you getting this Harold?" he asked.

"Yes Mr. Reese. I FINALLY have access. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Reese rolled his eyes. "She has received only two texts this morning" Harold continued. "The first when you fumbled the pairing one hour ago and the second a moment ago. Odd, the first one just states, 'go around again' and the second says 'have to wait, the bushes have eyes'. Mr. Reese, I would suggest that your surveillance has been noticed." Finch's voice sounded slightly concerned.

Reese considered this. "That means someone's got counter surveillance on this woman Finch. Skilled counter surveillance…on an ordinary university student…what the heck has she got herself into?" He looked down at his phone. Susan was receiving another text. 'Sit down on the bench in front of you and wait. We need to find him'. Great, if he left his cover in the shrubs, the woman would see him. Staying put would allow whoever was doing counter surveillance to intercept him. "Finch, someone out there is starting a sweep for me. I need a distraction."

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Reese. Stay put for a few minutes while I call out the cavalry."

Reese hunkered down in the bushes and watched Susan as she sat down on a nearby bench. He was close enough to see her face now and she looked frightened. She nervously fingered her phone, her eyes darting from side to side. Glancing behind him, Reese noticed two…no three…figures moving stealthily amongst the copse of trees which he had passed through earlier. The trail he had made through the thick grass across the open field would be easy to follow once they found it, even with the heavy rain. It would lead them directly to his current hiding spot. He looked around, searching for options. Just as he was considering making a break from his concealed position, he was surprised to hear…hoof-beats. Hoof-beats? When Finch mentioned the cavalry, he wasn't kidding.

Two horses came thundering up the trail, carrying two police officers who appeared to be searching for someone. The figures moving through the trees behind him tried to hide but the police horses had already caught the scent, their nostrils flaring and fearful of the imagined predators hidden in the trees. The officers pulled their mounts to a stop and ordered the men out of hiding. Three figures emerged and Reese could hear the officers saying something about a report of a group of men hiding in the bushes and mugging joggers in the park. Reese glanced up. Susan Robinson was standing now, staring intently at the activity with the police near the trees. Reese used the distraction to break cover, quickly loping across the path and disappearing into the forest on the other side. Concealed once more, he stopped and watched as the mounted officers started herding their suspects towards the park exit. Reese could hear the men arguing but the police would take them out of the park to somewhere dry to interrogate them. He was safe for now.

"Thanks Finch." Reese watched as Susan again looked at her phone.

"Another text Mr. Reese", Harold's voice piped into his ear. This one says 'Meeting postponed. Go back to room. Walk slowly and use side streets'."

"They're trying to pick me out. Someone is still watching her." Reese glanced around, unable to spot any obvious tails. "Harold, I'm going to stay put and see if anyone follows her. Can you track her location with the cell phone?"

"I'm disappointed you have to ask, Mr. Reese." Once again Reese rolled his eyes. He shivered in spite of himself, pulling the lapels of his suit jacket as tight as he could around his neck. Susan moved away towards the park exit. Walking slowly as instructed, she couldn't help but glance behind her every few seconds. She was definitely scared of something.

Reese waited a full fifteen minutes after the woman had left before breaking cover. He tried to look casual as he walked in the opposite direction than that she had taken, conscious that his sodden suit jacket and bedraggled appearance made it obvious he had been lurking in the rain. His eyes never stopped moving, scanning the area for anyone who might be watching him. Harold's voice chirped in his ear. "She's heading downtown. Why don't you come back to the library and I'll keep track of her from here?"

"Sounds like a plan Harold", Reese replied, trying to keep the gratitude from his voice. The thought of some dry clothes and a hot coffee almost made him forget how cold he was.

Finch smiled as he watched the two screens immediately in front of him, one a street view showing Susan walking, presumably towards her hotel, and the other from a camera in the park following Reese's movements towards an alternate exit. As he watched the tall man striding across the open grassy area, Finch found himself thinking that he should put the kettle on and whip up something hot for his employee to drink. He was about to get up from his chair when he saw Reese suddenly jerk his body towards his left, one hand whipping up to his neck. He heard the agent hiss. "Something bit me…"

"John…John, what's happening?" He saw Reese pull his pistol out and start loping towards the park exit. "John, talk to me…are you okay?"

"Finch, someone shot me with some kind of a dart. Like a tranquilizer dart. Whatever it contained was injected before I could get it out of my neck…" Reese kept moving, intent upon getting out of the park before whatever chemical it was took effect.

Now Harold really was alarmed. "John, slow down…the more you exert yourself, the faster it will find its way into your bloodstream."

"Gotta keep moving Harold…no place to hide here." Reese's stride faltered slightly. Finch saw him change direction and head off the trail towards the trees, some 30 metres away.

"John, where are you going?" Harold watched the camera feed, unable to rip his eyes away from the image of the tall man heading for the only cover anywhere nearby.

"I'm starting to feel it…dizzy…" Reese's speech was slurred. "Gotta hide before I…" He stumbled. "Before I…."

Finch watched in increasing panic as Reese staggered and fell, trying to raise his pistol in a defensive posture. He saw two men then emerge from the trees, one carrying a rifle. They cautiously moved towards the fallen operative. "John! John! Look out they're coming!"

Reese's voice was a whisper, thick and garbled. "Harold, I can't…can't… see…" His arms felt like lead and the pistol fell from suddenly useless fingers. The world swam before his eyes; his stomach lurched as he fought to avoid throwing up. Reese struggled to focus as two shapes approached. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to rise but his limbs were tangled and his muscles refused to obey his commands. "Harold…I…"

His hand scrabbled in the muddy grass, looking for the pistol. One of the shapes kicked it away and he felt the other roughly flip him over onto his stomach. A voice, gruff and hard, spoke from somewhere. "Go get the gator…and something to cover him". Reese grunted as a knee was forced into his back and his arms were painfully yanked together. He felt the cold steel of handcuffs snapping around his sodden wrists. He struggled against the restraints, using every ounce of strength he had left in an attempt to roll over but his drugged body betrayed him and he flailed uselessly against the unknown assailant. He was rewarded with a vicious knee to the kidneys and he grunted from the pain. "Don't move boy-o…" or you'll just make it worse for yourself." Reese could feel his consciousness slipping away and desperately increased his thrashing. The man stood and kicked him hard in the temple; Reese's head snapped back and darkness enveloped him.

Harold stood immobile, mouth open in horror, watching helplessly as John was taken. He could still hear the operative's gasping breaths over the com-link. "John, can you hear me?" Silence… The second man returned with a green six wheeled all-terrain vehicle with a large box in the back; the kind of vehicle groundskeepers used to move equipment and supplies. The two men picked the manacled agent up and roughly folded his unconscious frame into the box, then covered him with a dirty beige canvas tarp. One of them picked up John's pistol and stuck it in his waistband. The two men then jumped into the seats of the vehicle and drove out of sight of the camera Finch was watching. The bespectacled man looked on, frozen in place. He suddenly found the ability to move and jumped back to his computer to find a different vantage point. He found the gator moving with its hidden cargo towards the exit of the park. Just before they got there, the gator stopped and the man in the passenger seat flipped the tarp up and rooted around Reese's pockets. He found the cell phone, stood and crushed it under his heel. The sound of John's labored breathing ceased abruptly and Finch watched as the gator silently exited the park and disappeared onto the rainy streets of the city.

…to be continued….


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks to those of you who took the time to review my first chapter. I'm so glad you liked it. Any constructive comments, criticisms or suggestions as the story progresses would be appreciated so please continue with the reviews. They motivate me to keep writing.

Please note, this story is set approximately mid-season 2, so only our original characters will be involved.

**A Rainy Day in New York City - Chapter 2**

As the gator carrying the unconscious Reese moved out of camera, Harold Finch frantically searched for another angle he could use to track its movements. He found an ATM feed that showed the gator trundle half a block down the slick sidewalk and disappear into an alley behind an upscale Chinese restaurant. Finch's fingers flew across the keyboard; he managed to redirect a traffic camera a block over to watch the other end of the alley but the gator did not emerge. Harold continued to stare at the screens displaying the exits at each end of the alley. Nothing - no movement - where did they go? Harold chewed on his lower lip as he gazed at the images before him, trying to decide what to do. After a few minutes he spotted a large cube van drive out of the far end of the alley. Desperately he zoomed in the camera trying to catch a glimpse of the license plate to no avail; there was no plate on the vehicle. He grunted in frustration as his anxiety level further increased from his already near-panicked state. Was John in the truck? No way to know for sure but it did seem likely. Harold felt utterly useless as the truck drove out of sight and, try as he might, he was not able to locate another camera to follow its movements. Completely desperate now, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

A hostile female voice greeted him. "I told you I was taking the weekend off for my son's birthday Finch…"

"Detective Carter!" Finch interrupted and Carter could hear panic in the man's voice. "John's in trouble! He was in the park following a young woman we believe is in danger and it was raining and he was cold and we realized that another party was doing counter surveillance and…"

"Whoa, whoa Finch…" Carter's tone immediately became soothing as she tried to calm the man down. The level of fear in Finch's voice brought to mind the terror she'd seen in the bespectacled man's eyes that awful night at the parking garage when John had been shot and nearly killed by a CIA sniper. "Slow down, I can't follow when you talk that fast…calm yourself and slow down…" The detective heard a long shuddering breath on the other end of the phone as Harold tried to slow his racing heartbeat. "That's better", she said, trying to keep the fear that was building in her own gut out of her voice. "Now tell me what's going on…"

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Cold.

Why was it so cold? Reese's body felt numb with the exception of a ruthless hammering in his head and a horrible metallic taste in his mouth. He fought to drag his drugged mind back to some level of consciousness. Somewhere deep in his brain he knew he needed to move but opening his eyes seemed too colossal a task right now. He tried to raise his arms but something was stopping them, holding them down. He tried again…the effort was exhausting. He drifted.

Voices.

He could hear voices nearby and struggled to make out the words but his muddled brain couldn't quite grasp their meaning. It was frustrating. What were they saying? After what seemed like an eternity, Reese finally managed to clear some of the cobwebs from his pounding head and forced his eyelids to open. The bright light above him seared into his dilated pupils and he groaned involuntarily, snapping his eyes shut tight against the visual onslaught. The agony in his skull worsened.

"Hey, he's awake." A gruff voice; Reese was sure he'd heard it before, but where? More slowly this time, he opened his eyes, carefully squinting against the bright fluorescent light that hung immediately above his head. He was lying on his back, stretched out on a bed of some kind. Three men were approaching from across the room. He tried to rise but realized that he could not, each of his wrists and ankles encircled by some form of restraint tying him to railings on either side of the bed. He mulled that over for a moment in his semi-drugged confusion. A bed with side rails…was he in a hospital? He fought to clear the remaining mist from his mind and get a grip on what was going on.

"About time you woke up boy-o" the gruff voice said and a calloused hand reached down and slapped him twice across the face. Not a hospital then. Reese tried to turn his head away but the man slapped him again, harder this time. "Wake up I said…we need to have a chat".

The operative opened his eyes fiercely and glared up at his captor. "Slap me again and you will regret it", he growled. His voice was rough and raspy but the words were clear. The man standing closest laughed maliciously and his two colleagues chuckled as well.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making threats boy-o", the man said, and for good measure he smacked Reese a fourth time across the face. Reese grimaced, scowling up at his tormentor; the sting of the slaps actually improved his level of alertness. He blinked and examined the figure above him. The thug was a large man, not as tall as Reese but heavier; he was solidly built and had the look of a fighter. His two sidekicks were smaller but equally muscle-bound and, even from his horizontal position on the bed, the operative could tell that all three were armed. "Jimmy," the first man called over his shoulder. "Go tell the doc that our guest is awake."

"Will do, Paddy", the youngest of the thugs said and strode out of sight. Turning back towards Reese, the large man, evidently named "Paddy", grinned and raised his hand again, laughing when the agent flinched, expecting another blow. Paddy turned away and spoke quietly to the third thug. Reese strained unsuccessfully to hear what they were saying as the two men glanced back at him then moved out of sight.

The effects of the tranquilizer were definitely waning and Reese was now becoming fully aware of how uncomfortable he was. He had a massive headache, probably the remnants of the drug, not to mention the kick to the head; his clothing was still soaking wet and he was very, very cold. His freezing body waas now shaking uncontrollably.

Trying to ignore these distractions, the operative turned his head and began to survey his location. The lighting in the room beyond the bed was subdued and Reese couldn't make out anything outside the near-blinding glare of the fluorescent light above him. What he could see led him to believe he was in a medical examining room of some kind. He heard the sound of an air conditioner running at full blast somewhere nearby and felt the freezing air penetrating his sodden clothing. His teeth chattered and he knew the violent and constant shivering indicated that his body temperature was getting dangerously low. He surreptitiously tested the strength of the restraints. They were standard leather hospital cuffs with fleece liners. The leather was strong and the buckles holding his limbs in place were tight. He glanced at the bed rails, figuring they'd be easy to rip off then realized that the restraints weren't buckled through the rails at all but were binding his limbs directly to the bed's steel frame. He tugged harder and felt no give whatsoever. Not good…

Options… Not a lot… Reese considered an attempt to escape the restraint on his left wrist by vising his hand through the cuff using the leverage to dislocate his own thumb and allow the hand to slip free. He experimentally twisted his forearm to determine whether it was feasible. Should be possible he figured, but would leave him at a disadvantage should a hand to hand fight with one or all of the thugs ensue. Wouldn't be the first time, he thought, and it worked before… The operative began to apply more force to the cuff but the violent shaking of his arm muscles left him completely uncoordinated and made it impossible for him to find the right angle to force the thumb from its socket. He rolled slightly towards his left to try again but was interrupted when the thugs returned with another man. He was sixty-ish, medium height, with glasses, gray hair and a closely cropped salt and pepper beard. The man was wearing a shirt and tie covered by a white lab coat. A doctor? This must be the 'doc' Paddy had sent Jimmy to get.

"Do we know who he is yet…?" the doctor was asking as he strode towards the bed. He stopped in mid-stride, his eyes widening when he saw the violent shaking and terrible skin pallor of the tall man restrained on the bed. He reached forward quickly, placing a hand on Reese's forehead. Reese tried to yank his head away but the physician grasped him by the chin and flashed a pen light into his eyes. "You idiots…why is he so cold?" The doctor fumbled in his pocket for a moment, retrieving a digital thermometer and pushed the sensor into the operative's ear. Reese braced himself for the excruciating moment the device jammed the still-concealed earwig painfully through his eardrum but it never happened. The tiny ear bud must have been removed or fallen out after he lost consciousness; no wonder he hadn't heard anything from Finch. The thermometer beeped and the doctor looked at the readout. "This man is hypothermic you imbeciles…" he barked. "Do you want him to go into a coma before we've had the chance to question him? Get me some warm blankets and turn off that air conditioner!"

So much for a caring physician, Reese thought grimly. Although, ulterior motives of the doctor aside, it would be nice to warm up.

The doctor rolled some kind of instrument cart to the bedside and picked up a large scalpel in his right hand, reaching down with his left to grasp the lapel of Reese's suit jacket. The scalpel's blade flashed as he moved it briskly towards the operative's chest. Reese eyed the approaching knife in alarm and started to thrash against the physician's grip. "Stay still", the doctor growled. He looked over his shoulder. "Frank. Jimmy. Get your butts over here and hold him down." The two smaller thugs rushed over and forcefully pinned the shivering agent to the bed. Reese gritted his teeth expecting the pain of a stab wound when he suddenly realized that the doctor was using the scalpel to cut the soaking clothes off his body. Better than getting slashed he thought… He relaxed marginally as his wet clothing was cut away. First the jacket, then the shirt and finally the trousers - he suddenly noticed that his socks and shoes were already gone and wondered when they had been removed. As the doctor starting cutting off his boxer-briefs , Reese tried to stay completely immobile and willed his body to stop shaking, conscious of the sharp blade brushing ever so closely over that sensitive part of his body.

"We haven't even been on a date yet…" he said through chattering teeth, trying to muster a bravado he didn't feel.

"Don't be a smart-ass" was the doctor's hissing reply.

He had to admit, it felt good to be out of the wet clothes and when the doctor wrapped a warm blanket around his still-shivering body, Reese had to stop himself from thanking the man.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Startled by the sudden pounding on the door of her shabby hotel room, Susan Robinson jumped up from her perch on the bed and rushed to look through the peephole. She could see a black woman wearing a trench coat and holding a badge up to the lens. "NYPD! Open up", the woman demanded. Susan hesitated for a moment then slid the security chain aside and opened the door for the agitated police officer.

Carter strode into the room followed closely by her partner. "I'm Detective Carter, this is Detective Fusco", she said brusquely, "Are you Susan Robinson?"

"Y-yes-s", the young woman stammered. "What's this about?"

"Oh I think you know already", Carter stated. "We have reason to believe you are involved somehow in the abduction of a man from Central Park late this morning."

A shocked look on her face, the young woman backed up and sat unsteadily on the bed. "An abduction? In Central Park?" she said timidly. "I don't know anything about an abdu…"

"Cut the crap Susan, we don't have time!" Carter interrupted. "The missing man is a _colleague_ of ours." Not exactly a lie, Carter thought. "He received information that you were in danger so he was following you in the park, hoping to keep you safe. "

"Following me?" Susan's eyes were wide and Carter could see the realization dawn on her face. "Oh my God, oh my god…"

The story tumbled out of the young woman then. The research she was involved with in Ithaca, purportedly to develop a new cancer treatment for dogs, was actually a cover to circumvent the stringent laws governing the development of a new cancer fighter for people. Her mentor, Dr. Fenson, had convinced her that she could help him save human lives by pushing the envelope, as he put it. He had a secret lab in New York City where he was testing his new drug on real live human beings who were so desperate for a cure, they were willing to try anything...to pay anything. Her visit to the park had been to pick up his latest lab printouts so she could crunch the numbers to see whether the new drug was effective and safe.

Fusco grimaced, trying to follow the young woman's story. "So he's been testing a new wonder drug. Why all the cloak and dagger?" he asked. Susan tried to explain. Dr. Fenson had seemed a bit paranoid to her but insisted the covert nature of their information hand-offs was necessary so that rival pharmaceutical companies couldn't steal their research and also to make sure that the FDA wouldn't find out and shut them down.

"When the meeting was called off this morning, I didn't understand what was going on…" Susan said tearfully. They sent me a text saying they had to find someone…I was clueless. I didn't realize that they would kidnap a police officer." Carter didn't correct the young woman's assumption that their 'colleague' was a policeman. There were tears in Susan's eyes. "Why did he think I was in danger?" she asked. "We were a team. They trusted me and I trusted them. Even when I told Dr. Fenson that we had to slow down and reformulate because my analysis showed the drug was causing significant liver damage, he was okay with that."

Carter and Fusco exchanged glances. "When did you tell him that?" Fusco inquired.

"Just two days ago", Robinson replied. "I had the results with me in my backpack this morning to give to my contact so Dr. Fenson could review them himself."

The woman had dodged a bullet to be sure. Carter and Fusco both knew instinctively that Reese had saved this woman's life this morning - no doubt Dr. fenson and his cronies were planning to kill her before she could tell anyone else about the drug's problems. Not wanting to alarm Susan further with this probability, Carter said, "We'll get all the details later. Right now our friend is in trouble… serious trouble because he was trying to protect you… we need to find him". Carter's mind replayed the video of Reese's abduction that Finch had shown the two detectives on his laptop when they hurriedly convened an urgent meeting in a local coffee shop. They didn't know whether it was a simple tranquilizer or a lethal poison John had been injected with. He could already be dead for all she knew. She tried to erase the thought from her worried mind. "Susan, tell me where the lab is."

"I don't know… I don't know…" Susan was really crying now. "I think it's somewhere close to the park but I've never been there." Carter scowled. Her gut told her that the naïve young woman was telling the truth.

"Okay Susan, I want you to go with Detective Fusco", Carter said. "He's going to take you somewhere safe and take a full statement from you. We'll have to find the lab ourselves."

"I hope you find your friend…" Susan said. "…but don't worry, I'm sure Dr. Fenson wouldn't hurt him. He's a very kind man…"

Fusco and the girl left the room. Carter picked up her cell phone and dialed a number. "Finch, did you hear all that?"

"I did Detective", Finch answered. Carter could hear the frustration and worry in his voice. "I'm looking for properties in the downtown area that could be likely locations for Dr. Fenson's lab." The detective could hear frenzied tapping on a computer keyboard. "I'll get back to you shortly." The connection was abruptly cut off.

Carter stared at her phone for a moment, the knot of fear in her stomach clenching tighter. She had no idea where to go next. She punched a button on the phone and watched for the umpteenth time the video Finch had provided from the park that morning. The detective cringed when she saw John stumble and fall and her heart broke when she heard his haggard voice. 'Harold…I can't … can't… see.' The agent's customary cockiness and bravado was gone and she couldn't help but hear in his tone the fear he was feeling at that moment. "Where are you John?" she said aloud, a catch in her throat. She jumped as the phone in her hand buzzed insistently. Holding her breath, she answered. "Finch, tell me you found something."

"I did indeed Detective", Harold said. "I'm sending you an address. I'll meet you there."

She closed her eyes for a moment. Oh please let him be right… Clipping the phone back on her belt, she checked her service pistol, took a deep breath and headed out into the darkening night.

…to be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your flattering reviews; I appreciate all of you who were kind enough to post. I'm am really happy that you are enjoying this story. Just a short chapter today to set up for the grand finale!

**A Rainy Day in New York City – Chapter 3**

Once Reese's wet clothing was removed and his fettered figure was swaddled in a thermal blanket, the doctor and his cronies moved to the far corner of the room, speaking in hushed tones while maintaining a constant watch over their captive. As his hypothermic body began to return to a normal temperature, the uncontrollable shaking of Reese's muscles started to subside and, despite his current predicament, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to savour, just for a moment, the luxurious feeling of being warm and dry. Without realizing it, he found himself drifting, thinking how good a nap would be right now. He was unceremoniously jolted out of his reverie by the insistent ringing of a cell phone. Snapping his eyes open, Reese silently chided himself for his unprofessionalism. This was no time to lose focus.

The doctor picked up his phone. "Yes?" Reese saw a scowl appear on the older man's face. "Slow down Susan! Slow down and tell me what's going on…" He glanced over at the agent again then turned his back, cupping a hand over the phone and dropping his voice to a near whisper. Reese strained to hear what he was saying. "No, no…that's crazy Susan. You know the police. They're always over-reacting…" A faint hope entered Reese's mind at the mention of the police. Of course Harold would have called Carter and Fusco. "Naturally, you're part of the team Susan", the doctor continued. "I couldn't have done this without you… you know that…no, no…this is too important. We're saving lives here…" " As the doctor listened to the young woman on the other end of the phone, he turned back towards the bed and Reese saw the man's expression change from concern to anger. "They lied to you Susan. You were never in danger and we didn't abduct anyone." It was so obvious that he was lying – Reese hoped Miss Robinson would hear it. "I'm sure it was a ruse to convince you to talk to them…" the doctor went on. "You didn't say anything, did you…?" The doctor's face suddenly went very pale and his eyes bulged; his ear to the phone, he glared at his captive with undisguised animosity.

Uh-oh, this can't be good, Reese thought.

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Finch leaned heavily on the gas pedal as he gunned the dark sedan through the streets of New York, praying that the unoccupied warehouse he had identified as belonging to Dr. Fenson's charitable foundation was where they had taken John. Through the tiny device in his ear, Finch heard Carter's cell phone buzz and listened as she answered the call. The sound of the detective's car engine revving in the background made it clear she too was hurtling towards the location and Finch found himself hoping she was using a hands-free device. Her having an accident on the way would be disastrous.

"Carter", she said brusquely, oblivious to the blaring horns as she gunned her car through a red light.

"It's Fusco", a near-panicked Lionel responded. "I took the girl to the precinct but she kicked me in the jewels and bolted as soon as I opened the car door…she's gone."

"You lost her?" Carter said in disbelief? "Fusco how could you lose her? Didn't you handcuff her when you put her in your car?"

The silence on the line was deafening and Carter closed her eyes a brief second longer than she should have considering the speed she was traveling. "Sorry Carter," Fusco sounded contrite. "She was acting so cooperative and all… I didn't think…"

"No you didn't think…" Finch broke in, the fury evident in his voice. Fusco had never heard the man in the glasses lose his composure before and he swallowed nervously. Finch angrily continued, "Your incompetence could allow her to warn her mentor that we're on to him."

"Calm down Finch," Carter actually found herself feeling sorry for Fusco. "I know you…you must be eavesdropping on her cell phone. Has she made any calls?"

"No, she has not, however that does not preclude her from having called Dr. Fenson from a land-line or even a secondary cell phone." Both detectives knew Finch was right. Finch rolled his eyes desperately and decided to scold Detective Fusco later; right now they had to find John. He gave Fusco the address – "Get yourself there as fast as you can Detective Fusco, we'll meet you on site and let's hope we're not too late."

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With his wrists and ankles still bound to the bed, Reese was fully conscious of how vulnerable he was. He watched the doctor's anger turn to rage as the older man listened tight-lipped to the young woman on the other end of the phone. The white-coated man raised his eyes and glowered menacingly at the captive agent, his face turning a vibrant scarlet. Reese knew he didn't have much time, it was pretty clear that this guy was going to go postal on him as soon as he finished the phone call. Paddy, Jimmy and Frank were becoming alarmed at their boss' change of demeanour and watched him closely, distracted from their duty to guard the tall man restrained on the bed. Reese urgently started to twist his left forearm and hand through the strap binding his wrist to the bed, leveraging his thumb painfully against one of the metal buckles. The operative gritted his teeth and applied more force, feeling the tendons stretch, ignoring the discomfort as his thumb protested the movement. Clenching his jaw tight and willing himself not to make a sound, Reese took a deep breath and violently vised his hand back and sideways against the leather cuff.

The crack of his thumb dislocating was deafening in his ears and his face contorted as piercing pain flooded up his arm; Reese bit back the bile that rose in his throat and furtively glanced at his captors, incredulous that they apparently hadn't heard the sickening sound of bone separating from tendon. The enraged doctor was still talking with Susan Robinson on the cell phone, demanding that she destroy all the electronic and paper files she had regarding his research. It was clear that she was arguing with him, wanting to protect the data. The three thugs were still staring at the doctor, various levels of anxiety appearing on their faces. Reese grimaced and dragged his damaged left hand through the cuff encircling his wrist, his searing thumb grinding agonizingly through the constricted space. He rolled to his right, reaching quickly with his now-free left hand to unbuckle the strap binding his right hand to the bed, accomplishing the task mainly with his fingers. When both hands were loose he laid back quietly, covering his now-unfettered wrists with the blanket. There was no way he could sit up to free his ankles without alerting his captors. He would have to wait for the right moment.

The doctor's face was purple by the time he hung up the phone. He glared at the three thugs. "You morons", he growled. "If you had killed the bitch when you were supposed to this wouldn't be happening! Jimmy, Frank...", he barked. "Go find her and take care of it...NOW. Paddy and I will deal with the iceman here."

So much for 'Do no harm' Reese thought, feeling the adrenalin surge through his body as the doctor and the large thug started to approach him ominously.

...to be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Rainy Day in New York City – Chapter 4**

The rain was still falling heavily as Carter brought her unmarked police car to a screeching halt a block from the address Finch had provided. It was now late evening and the glare from the streetlights streaming through the thick precipitation gave an eerie, ethereal impression. There was no one on the sidewalk and the street was unnervingly quiet. She jumped out of her car just as a dark sedan came to a shuddering halt behind her own car, followed in close procession by another unmarked police car. Fusco jumped out of the rear vehicle, cycling his pistol as his feet hit the sidewalk. Finch took a few seconds longer to drag his unyielding body out of the sedan, frustrated at how slowly he moved and wishing he could be more useful in what would likely be a deadly fight in the moments to come. He felt truly thankful to have these two trusted officers – and he didn't trust very many people - there to help him find John. Over eight hours had passed since Reese had been taken and Harold grimly hoped they weren't already too late.

Finch and Fusco started to move towards the warehouse but Carter stopped them. "Wait, we need some more firepower," she said, opening the trunk of her car. Fusco was already wearing his soft body armour; she shrugged out of her trench coat and snaked her own vest on over her head, quickly pulling the velcro straps snug around her body. Carter then tossed a spare vest to Finch. "Put that on – make sure it's tight." The bespectacled man swallowed nervously but did as he was told. She withdrew a tactical shotgun, "Sorry Lionel, I only have one of these babies…", and rapidly loaded the long gun's magazine with shells. Once fully loaded, she racked the shotgun fiercely and said, "Okay, let's move. Fusco, I know one of us would normally go around to the back but I think we should stick together until we know what we're up against." Fusco nodded and she knew he had her back. That realization felt really good. Carter had spent so long believing her partner could not be trusted, it was hugely reassuring to have him with her now. She looked towards the other man. "…Finch, hang back until I give you the all clear." Finch wanted to protest, to ask for a gun of his own, to do something to feel less useless but instead, agonizingly cognizant of his own physical limitations, he nodded mutely and followed the two officers towards the warehouse.

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Reese's eyes apprehensively followed the younger hoods as they left to carry out the doctor's instructions to find and kill Susan Robinson. The thought that he had failed to protect her gnawed at his insides and he tried to shake off the distraction. He couldn't do anything for the girl right now – he had to deal with more pressing matters. He only hoped he would somehow be able to get to her on time.

Reese was acutely aware that his ankles remained strapped to the bed and he was still in a very vulnerable position. True, he had managed to free his hands, a fact which would no doubt give him the element of surprise, a definite tactical advantage, but his throbbing left thumb hung pretty much useless and he felt his entire forearm going numb. He eyed the doctor and the large thug who were headed towards him; the wrath in the white-coated man's eyes was unmistakable.

"Paddy, that imbecilic girl ran off at the mouth to the cops…" he growled through clenched teeth. "We've got to clean everything up and fast." The doctor glowered at Reese menacingly. "…Starting with him."

The large thug pulled a pistol from his waistband, nodding. He stepped in front of the doctor, reached across the bed rail and pointed the weapon directly at the agent, the barrel only inches away from the his captive's face. Reese's reaction was lightning fast. Bolting upright on the bed, he reached out with both hands, vising the gun around and away from the shocked hoodlum with his right hand and wrapping his left arm around Paddy's neck. In an instant he had the thug in an awkward headlock with the barrel of the pistol pressed into the man's temple. The doctor stopped open-mouthed and quickly pulled his own handgun from the pocket of his lab coat.

"Drop the gun doctor or I kill him..." Reese's eyes were icy calm. Paddy let out a strangled cry, his eyes bulging.

The doctor smiled in a ghoulish way. Reese felt the large thug start to thrash and the agent tightened his grip around the man's neck, ignoring the pain shooting up and down his left forearm. "You think I care if you kill him?" the doctor hissed. "He's just another detail I need to clean up…" Reese immediately realized the doctor's intentions and jerked his body away from the thug just as the deafening sound of gunshots filled his ears. Paddy crumpled to the ground and Reese returned fire, two shots striking the older man in the chest. The doctor dropped to his knees, his arms hanging loosely at his sides and gawked disbelievingly at the growing patch of scarlet in the middle of his white shirt. He looked up and Reese could see blind fury and utter hatred in his eyes. He raised the pistol again and Reese shot him through the forehead. Blood spurting from the wound, the doctor jerked backwards, his pistol clattering across the concrete floor. The agent heard him take a last rattling breath, then his eyes became opaque and he was still.

Reese fought to control the adrenalin surging through his body; he found himself thinking Carter was going to be pissed with two dead bodies littering the floor. He winced, suddenly becoming aware of a poker hot pain searing through his right shoulder and he reached his damaged left hand up to what he discovered was a gunshot wound. God damn it - he had obviously been hit when the doctor fired on Paddy. Hadn't even felt it but now that the adrenalin was waning, Reese groaned at the new agony enveloping his shoulder. He pushed the blanket aside and reached down to unbuckle the leather restraints binding his ankles to the bed. Free of his fetters at last, the operative struggled to collapse the side rails, his damaged shoulder protesting the motion and his searing left thumb joining the chorus. Once the rails were down, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, staggering slightly on wobbly legs. With his left hand, he awkwardly grabbed a large towel off the instrument tray and pressed it into his shoulder wound, hissing from the pain but continuing to applying pressure to slow the bleeding.

He was startled by a crash behind him and twisted his body around quickly as the door behind him was kicked in. Reese levelled the pistol at the new arrivals, his left hand continuing to hold the towel in place over his shoulder. Reese blinked, face to face with Fusco's gun and stopped himself from pulling the trigger. Relief coursed through his body as Carter entered behind Fusco and the operative leaned tiredly against the bed.

"What the hell?" Fusco blurted, just managing to stop himself from firing. He gaped at the dead men on the floor. Carter rushed up behind him, her shot gun levelled. She stopped, mouth open, frozen in place at the wholly unexpected sight of a naked John bleeding in front of her.

Suddenly conscious of his state of undress, Reese yelped and, placing the pistol on the bed, grabbed the blanket, wrapping it hurriedly around his waist. His eyes met Carter's and she almost smiled at the mortified look on his face and the sudden blush that appeared in his cheeks. It took just a split second and then she saw the control return to his expression and he rapidly replaced his embarrassed look with that hound-dog smirk she knew so well. It was a good show, but she could tell he was acutely uncomfortable for her to have seen him in his present condition.

"Carter, if you wanted to get me naked, you should've brought flowers…" Reese's voice was as smooth as always and any hint of his discomfiture disappeared under his skillfully controlled facade.

Carter called an all clear over her shoulder to Finch and the bespectacled man rushed into the room. "Oh thank God…" Finch was saying. "You're still alive…" Reese felt even more embarrassed when he saw his employers' eyes widen in horror as he caught sight of the blood-saturated towel he held to his shoulder, then surveyed the rumpled hospital bed where his employee had obviously been restrained and the instrument cart with scalpels, needles and other gadgets that Finch was suddenly certain had been instruments of torture. He moved to Reese's side. "Are you okay John? Here let me help…" He reached up and tried to grab John's right arm to pull it over his shoulder to support the taller man but Reese pulled away, still gripping the blanket tightly with his right hand and not wanting to drop it with Carter staring at him.

"Thanks Harold but I'm using that hand right now…" Carter grinned and Reese cursed inwardly as he felt the colour rise once again in his cheeks. "I'm fine…just a gunshot wound but I've had worse. It's barely even bleeding anymore…"

"You're not fine, you've been shot!" Harold still sounded panicked and Reese allowed the smaller man to steer him back towards the bed. "Now lie down and let me take a look at your wound…" Reese obediently sat and with his employer's help, swung his legs up and settled back onto the bed, still clutching the blanket low around his waist. Finch moved his hand to take the towel Reese continued to press into his shoulder, recoiling at the operative's pain-filled hiss as Harold inadvertently pulled the damaged thumb on Reese's left hand. Finch gingerly examined the offending limb and scowled when he saw the livid bruising and swelling. It was evident that the thumb was dislocated. "What did they do to your hand?" he asked gently, his tone betraying the pity he felt for the younger man.

Carter approached tentatively to see what Finch was talking about. She winced when she saw the apparently severely broken digit. Reese hated the pitiful looks he was attracting. "They didn't do anything but strap me to the bed Harold. I did this myself so I could slip out of the cuffs." Finch's eyes widened at the thought of his employee being forced to dislocate his own thumb; he made a tisking sound and pushed Reese further down onto the bed, silently compelling him to lie still. He pulled the blood-sodden towel away from the operative's shoulder and examined the wound. "Needs debriding but it looks fairly clean. He gently rolled Reese forward to look at this back. "No exit wound so we'll need to get a surgeon to remove the bullet."

Carter was immediately beside him now, on the other side of the bed from Finch and so close he could smell her scent. She ran her eyes over the tall man's bare torso, her gaze moving from the shoulder across his chest and down the taut stomach muscles, disappearing under the blanket that still hung loosely around his hips. She felt a catch in her throat when her eyes froze on the ugly recent scar radiating from his abdomen. She knew that was the sniper shot inflicted when she sold him out to the CIA. Without thinking she tentatively reached out her hand and lightly ran her fingers over the mostly-healed wound. Reese gasped in surprise and she felt his skin tremble under her touch. Her eyes locked on his and she felt the blood rush to her face. She quickly withdrew her hand. "Looks like that's healing up nicely", she said, trying to sound clinical.

Reese fought to control his suddenly increased respiration and hoped his voice sounded normal. "Yep, healing okay but I'm still waiting for the 'Sorry I got you shot card…" He tried to smirk and willed Carter to go back to their usual style of banter. The operative was acutely uncomfortable with the type of attention he was getting.

Finch broke in. "Enough of this, I'll make a call and then we've got to get you to a doctor and get that bullet removed…"

Reese grunted and pushed his employer's hands away. "No can do Harold. The mad doctor here sent two of his goons after Miss Robinson – to find her and kill her. I've got to get going. I've got to help her." He forced his way to a sitting position gently countering Finch's attempt to stop him.

Finch glared at his employee, an incredulous and increasingly exasperated look on his face. "And just how are you planning to do that Mr. Reese? Your left hand is useless and your right arm isn't far off as a result of this gunshot wound to your shoulder...which is still bleeding I might add. You have already lost a substantial volume of blood." Reese started to argue, stopping abruptly when Harold added, "And as much as I would like to save the life of a young woman, tell me are you planning to rush to her aid in the guise of some newly minted naked superhero?" Carter smiled in spite of herself at the sudden realization on Reese's face that Finch was not going to provide him with any clothing.

"Come on Harold", Reese was almost begging. "You always keep my go-bag in the trunk of your car. Be reasonable. We have to do something…"

The operative startled when Fusco spoke up from somewhere behind him. He had almost forgotten the other detective was there. "Listen to the boss…" Fusco said, "And leave the rest to Carter and me. We'll find her and do what we can to save her. You need to get fixed up."

Reese tried arguing but Finch, Carter and Fusco stood their ground. "Trust us John", Carter implored. "It's what we do and we're good at it."

Fusco tried to make him feel better by adding, "Yeah and with you not there, we can actually call back-up. That's a switch."

The operative felt completely outmaneuvered and outmanned. He knew that Carter and Fusco would do what they could to save the girl but the thought of them finishing the job he had started and cleaning up his mess was grating on his ego. He suddenly felt very tired. And very cold….why was he so cold again? …Must be the blood loss. He shivered violently and bit back a groan as the pain flared in his damaged shoulder. It was clear that he wasn't in any shape to protect anyone. He looked into three pairs of eyes, scowled sullenly and nodded his compliance.

Fusco and Carter turned to go and Finch said, "I tracked Miss Robinson's cell phone to a hostel on the other side of the park. I'll text you the address detectives. Please, be careful…"

Reese felt completely useless as he watched the two police officers leave. He lay back on the bed feeling utterly pathetic as Finch pulled the blanket up and gently tucked it in around his shoulders. His employer then dialled a number on his cell phone and started making arrangements. Reese's mind searched for a means of getting back on the horse but his exhausted brain couldn't seem to formulate a plan. Despite their best efforts, his shoulder was still bleeding and the blood loss was definitely starting to take a toll.

Trust….trust Carter. And Fusco. Trust… he drifted into a semi-conscious haze. Harold's voice floated somewhere in the room. "John! …John! Wake up! Try to stay conscious, I have help on the way…"

Reese tried to open his eyes but could not. Finch anxiously re-dialled his phone as the operative lost consciousness. "Hurry please!" he begged to the assistance on the way. "John hold on…hold on. They're coming…"

…to be continued


	5. Chapter 5

A Rainy Day in New York City – Chapter 5

Cold.

Why was he so cold again? Reese shivered slightly, moaning in a semi-conscious haze as he became aware of acute pain searing through his right shoulder. He was nauseous and disoriented and it just felt like way too much work to open his eyes. Oddly he felt a sudden sense of deja-vu and wondered why it seemed like he had just been through this experience. The operative had a faint impression of people moving around him and he grimaced; someone was probing his throbbing shoulder and he fuzzily searched for a way to make them stop. Trying and failing to open his eyes, he reached up with his left hand to shove the offending party away then groaned loudly when his dislocated thumb piercingly protested the attempt.

Reese felt himself being lifted and his stomach lurched. He was moved sideways a short distance and quickly laid down again. He felt a blanket being draped over his body and he let out a ragged breath, relaxing somewhat as his stomach settled down. Abruptly, he sensed thick straps being pulled around his ankles and chest, pressing his back into a soft surface, immobilizing his body. The adrenalin surged and he thrashed against the restraints, struggling fiercely against whoever was trying to tie him down, ignoring the pain the movement caused. He finally managed to open his eyes but all he could see was a blurry image of two faces above him as he wrestled with his would-be captors. He heard a voice, "John… John…don't fight us…you'll injure yourself further. We're going to help you…just a short trip in the ambulance to my clinic…please...stop." Who was speaking? He couldn't quite recognize the man's voice but it was somehow familiar; a part of his brain told him it belonged to someone he could trust. He stopped fighting, closed his eyes and allowed himself to be strapped to the gurney. He drifted…

The next impression he had was of being inside a moving vehicle at night. Lights flashed haphazardly across his closed eyelids and his body rolled slightly against the straps holding him down as they sped around a tight corner. He hissed through clenched teeth as the stabbing pain in his shoulder flared anew. An unknown voice was speaking and Reese hazily struggled to understand the words. "It's very serious Mr. Finch…he's in critical condition", the voice was saying. "The bullet broke the collar bone and severed the right subclavian artery. He's lost a great deal of blood. I'm amazed that he's even semi-conscious at this point."

The operative shook his head and forced his eyes to open again. "I'm… awake" he said, his voice raspy. "I can't stay here…I need to go help…Carter…have to stop them from killing the girl…" He weakly tried to struggle against the straps again but stopped when he felt someone tentatively take hold of his right hand.

The familiar voice spoke again. "John you have to stop fighting us…Carter and Fusco have it covered." The agent finally recognized the voice. Harold. Of course it was Harold. Reese's focus was clearer now and he turned his head to look into his employer's worried face. Finch nodded grimly. "I assure you, Carter and Fusco have it covered", he repeated. "They arrived at the hostel with a SWAT team in tow and have located the girl. She's safe. Apparently there are at least two suspects now barricaded in an adjoining office and the police are trying to convince them to surrender without further bloodshed…it's over."

Reese scrutinized the earnest man's face and could see that Finch was telling the truth. He relaxed his body, closed his eyes and settled quietly back onto the mattress. "Okay Harold…okay…I'll be good…", he whispered. "…but if you tell anyone that we were holding hands, I _will_ have to kill you."

Finch suppressed a laugh, relieved to see the slight smirk on his employee's ashen face. He released his grip on Reese's right hand and gently placed the arm down on the gurney beside the injured man's body. The Iraqi doctor sitting beside Finch shook his head, marveling at the stamina of his mysterious patient. Maybe the tall man would pull through after all….again. He had already proven that he was good at beating the odds.

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As Reese slowly woke up he felt warm and very comfy. He sluggishly opened his eyes and squinted at the bright sunlight pouring through the large windows. He was in his own apartment. Trying to remember how he got there, the tall man yawned and started to stretch, fully intending to luxuriate in the comfort of his own bed but something stopped the motion. The operative blinked again and looked down at his body, realizing for the first time that his right arm, bent at the elbow, was tightly bound to his torso, completely encased in wide elastic tape. He reached over with his left hand to explore the bindings; it was then that he noticed with increasing alarm that his left hand and forearm were fully encased in a plaster cast which extended to the elbow. To make matters worse, he couldn't use the appendage at all…the thumb was set rigidly at right angles to the hand and there was no way to bend the fingers either with the hardened plaster reaching right up to his fingernails. He stared stupidly for a moment at his two unusable arms and tried to recall what the heck had happened.

"It's about time you woke up…" Reese jerked his eyes up to see the smiling face of Detective Carter. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, not her usual work attire and he gawped at her, a bewildered expression on his face. Carter in his place? What was she doing here? The operative shook his head in an attempt to clear the haze from his brain and figure out what was going on. Carter turned her head and called over her shoulder, "Finch, he's awake. And he doesn't look too happy." She turned back and the smile increased. "You had us scared there John", she said. "I should have known you were too damn stubborn to lose a fight."

"Carter…" his voice was hoarse and he coughed hard, wincing slightly and tried again. "What are you…"

He was interrupted in mid-sentence by Finch limping over to his bedside from the other side of the apartment. "Mr. Reese, nice of you to join us again" Finch said. "You've been asleep for two days…I was starting to wonder when you were going to wake up."

"Finch…" he rasped. "What the heck happened? How did I..? Two days?"

This started a serious coughing fit and he closed his eyes and hacked for several seconds, inwardly cursing that he was so out of control. Reese opened his eyes and was completely flustered to see Carter leaning over him; she reached down with one hand to gently lift his head and with the other she brought a glass of water containing a long bendy straw towards his mouth. He tried to turn away but Carter maintained a firm grip on the back of his head and pushed the straw into his mouth. "Have some water, John." She had a mischievous glint in her eye and he had a vague sensation that she was enjoying his obvious discomfiture. Having little choice he swallowed a couple of sips of water until he was finally able to push her hand aside with his cast-encased left hand.

"That's enough…uh, thanks…Carter." He felt acutely embarrassed; Reese hated being coddled like this, and it was especially awkward to have Carter there, acting like his nurse. She smiled innocently at him and the operative looked at Finch, his eyes imploring his employer to do something to stop the madness. Finch had a lopsided grin on his face and it was clear that he too was enjoying the moment. Reese coughed again and tried to sound calmer than he felt. "Uh, Harold...I'm a bit foggy on what happened after I shot the doctor in the warehouse. Maybe you could fill me in…" He tried to sit up but his bound right arm made it difficult and he found himself fighting to loosen the blanket that someone had thoughtfully tucked in while he was asleep. Oh God, he hoped it wasn't Carter. She helpfully reached down and forcefully raised him into a semi-sitting position, taking a moment to prop two pillows behind his back. Now feeling completely pathetic, he closed his eyes briefly and wondered if this could get any worse.

Harold was amused to see the palpable discomposure of his normally oh-so-composed employee. Finally taking pity on the tall man's obvious distress, he sat down on a chair beside the bed and delivered a full briefing on the events following the shooting at the warehouse. As Finch recounted the story, Reese started to remember the aftermath of the doctor's death - finally being free from the restraints, the realization that he'd been shot and his attempts to slow the copious bleeding from his shoulder wound. Abruptly the operative recalled the moment Fusco and Carter had arrived and he felt the blood rush to his face again, wincing inwardly as the look of shock that he had seen on Carter's face as he stood bleeding and naked before her flashed across his mind. Thankfully, Finch didn't mention this part. Reese carefully kept his eyes averted from the female detective and had the impression that she too was avoiding looking at him. Finch recounted the situation Fusco and Carter faced when they arrived at the hostel where they found Susan Robinson moments away from being killed by the two suspects. A fire-fight ensued and Fusco shot one of the thugs in the knee – it seems Mr. Reese was having an influence on the burly detective. The suspects retreated to an adjacent office where they barricaded the doors and refused to come out. It had taken the SWAT negotiator over three hours to coax them out and then they only surrendered because the thug that Fusco had hit realized that he would bleed to death if he stayed and put a gun to his partner's head to force him to give up. Apparently Miss Robinson had attacked Fusco and taken off upon arriving at the police station because she suddenly realized that all the research was going to be lost. She really believed Dr. Fenson and the new drug would save lives; what she didn't know was that the good doctor was stealing the results from another bone-fide drug study and passing them on as his own work to Susan for collation. He could then use her work to convince future patients to agree to the experimental treatment. The drug cocktail he was actually using was extremely dangerous and probably useless against the cancer, but with each desperate patient paying over one hundred thousand dollars for the treatment (and by Susan's best recollection, there had been over seventy five patients so far), Dr. Fenson couldn't risk the young medical student screwing up his lucrative revenue source.

Finch then went on to explain what had happened to Reese after he had passed out from blood loss in the warehouse – his panicked call to the same surgeon who had saved the operative's life after he'd been shot by the sniper, the broken collar bone and the severed artery, the frantic ride in the unmarked ambulance to his clinic. The Iraqi doctor was able to stop the bleeding and repair the shoulder. He then had to surgically repair Reese's dislocated thumb. As it happened, the operative had managed to break a bone in his wrist when he dislocated his thumb and that was the reason for the "thumb spike" cast he now wore on the left hand. Then there had been a difficult trip, surreptitiously moving the unconscious operative back to his apartment. "You weigh more than one might think, you know", Harold said. "Detective Fusco is still complaining about a sore back not to mention the black eye he suffered when you slugged him as he and Carter were helping me get you up the stairs." Reese's eyes widened and Finch continued. "In your defence, you were not fully conscious at the time and he had just accidently bumped your head into the wall."

The tall man nodded blearily. Great. Just great. He was never going to live this one down. He raised his immobilized left hand then glanced at his taped right arm. "So how long does the good doctor expect me to put up with this? I can't look after myself without my hands. Help me cut the tape off."

"That is not happening, Mr. Reese." Finch tried to look imposing but Reese thought he could detect a slight smile at the corner of his employer's mouth. "You need to wear the cast a full six weeks to make sure your thumb heals completely." Reese started to argue but Harold cut him off. "And the right arm must stay immobilized for a week at the very least, ten days at the most. We'll know after your next X-Ray."

"A week?" Reese looked suddenly panicky. "I can't function like this for one day much less seven!" He sent an imploring look towards Carter.

"Don't try your puppy dog look on me!" she laughed. "When Mr. Finch says a week, it will be a week. I'm sure as hell not going to cut you loose. You need the rest anyway John, why don't you relax and rejuvenate during your forced vacation?" She was thoroughly enjoying herself and Reese was rapidly coming to the awful realization of just how limited his options were. There was no way he could free his right arm from the bindings himself with his left hand encased in plaster and no way was he going to be able to cut the cast off with the maddening elastic tape immobilizing his right arm tight against his torso. Maybe he could intimidate Lionel into rescuing him from this nightmare. But how was he even going to contact Fusco when he couldn't even pick up or dial his damn phone?

Finch seemed to read his mind. "And don't even think about trying to cajole Detective Fusco into removing the dressings or the cast…" he said. "He is aware of the dire consequences that would result should he help you thwart the doctor's orders."

"But if I can't use my hands…I can't do anything…" John was sounding desperate and Harold had to bite back the smile that threatened to appear. Trying to calm the rising panic at the thought of of being completely dependent on others to do everything for him, Reese tried another tactic. "Come on Harold, what happens if another person needs help when I'm like this? I need to be able to work." Frantically he tried to thrust his right arm through the bindings but couldn't so much as move a muscle. He was trapped.

Finch nodded towards Carter. "The detectives have helpfully offered to deal with any new cases that arise. You will rest and you will let us all help you during your recovery. I have nursing care coming in during daytime hours but either myself, Detective Carter or Detective Fusco will be here every evening to help you through the night."

John closed his eyes, feeling completely defeated. Oh God, he thought. Please tell me this is just a horrible nightmare. Let me wake up, please. Carter leaned forward and fluffed one of his pillows. "I'll fix you something to eat John. Just soup for now." She smirked at his maddened expression. "…And maybe some jello. No solid food for two days, doctor's orders."

Oh God, she intended to spoon feed him too, how else could he eat? No, no, no. This really couldn't be happening. Finch smiled at him and patted his good shoulder. "It's going to be fine Mr. Reese", he said. "We'll have you good as new in no time…" he turned to leave as the sound of Carter bustling in the kitchen reached his ears.

"Harold, wait…." Reese couldn't think of anything left to try but begging. "Please…I can't do this..."

Finch could see the sheer desperation in his employee's face and felt a pang of sympathy for the younger man. Steeling himself, he vowed to ensure that the doctor's instructions would be followed. He felt responsible for the operative and the old adage 'This hurts me more than it hurts you' suddenly came to mind but the bespectacled man wisely chose not to say it aloud. Instead he tried to sound fatherly. "It will do you good John. You need to learn how to accept the help of your friends. You need to learn to trust us." Reese started to protest vehemently then unexpectedly clenched his eyes shut tight as a violent sneeze burst out of his mouth.

"I told you to wear your coat, Mr. Reese." Finch sounded positively smug. "I'll ask Detective Carter to whip up some chamomile tea with honey and Echinacea for you. You seem to have caught a cold."

The end…

**A/N:** This was my first POI fic and I really hope you enjoyed the story. I had a lot of fun writing it and I really appreciate all the wonderful reviewers who took the time to comment. I would love to hear what you think of the ending so please, let me know. Janie


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